


Tarzan

by Schach



Series: Schach does Disney [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:50:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schach/pseuds/Schach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of Tarzan that I wrote. I may do more if this is liked enough, but in the meantime I'm off to write more Disney snippets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarzan

“Oh, don’t bother minding me, I’m only the head of this little expedition,” Charles muttered irritably, slapping more branches out of the way with his fashionable walking stick, wincing as he heard another gunshot ring out ahead. He was trying his hardest to keep up, not wanting to get lost, but the uneasiness this clearing was causing him was a far better motivator to keep on.

There was the distinct feeling of eyes lingering on his back, which, due to the fact that he was alone in this part of the massive forest, was vaguely unsettling and he hurried forward to catch up with his party.

Another shot rang out, followed by an angry stream of curse words and unsurprisingly more gunfire.

“I do wish he would stop doing that,” he ground out, running forward into the thicket, not really concerned with his own well-being as branches and brambles attacked his body.

“Mr. Shaw, please, if there do happen to be any gorillas about you are going to scare them all away with your shooting,” he chided, stepping into the path Shaw had hacked clear with his machete.

“Mr. Xavier, I’m only doing my job. I was hired to protect you, and protect you I shall,” Shaw said in a mockingly sweet voice that made it abundantly clear that he was here for nothing but the money and possessed none of the enthusiasm that had bought Charles and his sister half way across the world.

Though, using the term enthusiasm to describe the way Emma felt about this whole venture was highly wishful thinking on Charles part. She’d only come along out of a need to protect her only remaining family member, or as she put it her “ickle baby brother”. But not even that kind of devotion had forced her away from the camp once in the week they’d been there. Hence Charles following wearily behind an overly aggressive Shaw.

“Do keep up, Mr. Xavier. Ms. Frost will kill me if I lose you,” Shaw called over his shoulder, and he couldn’t even manage to sound concerned because he was already out of sight again, slashing viciously through the undergrowth.

Charles meant to follow Shaw. He truly did. But he had that peculiar feeling resuming its nerve wracking crawl up his spine, that feeling that told him he wasn’t alone.

“Charles, you’re losing it,” he growled to himself, but he was turning around anyway, peering through the trees behind him, looking, scanning, searching and- there. Yes. Down in the underbrush peering curiously up at him were the most enthralling eyes he’d ever seen.

He wasn’t sure from this angle what color they were, green and blue both observing him from below, and he couldn’t tell if it was a reflection of the sky through the leaves, because that was how bright those eyes were. Those eyes that were so sharp, it looked as if they caught every little thing, could maybe even see what Charles was thinking.

He could see a small band of skin around the stranger’s eyes, crow feet in abundance and Charles found himself wondering what kind of life this person must lead to have such happy eyes, and all at once confused and intrigued.

“Uhm… Hello there?”

The man didn’t so much as stir at the sound of his voice. Charles could tell it was a man from the broad flashes of bare skin he was eyeing between branches, taut, tanned skin covered with scars and dirt. 

He took a cautious step forward and the eyes in the bushes blinked, widening comically. Slowly they began to back away and Charles fought a moment of panic.

“No wait, please, come back, I don’t mean you any harm”, he pleaded, unconsciously taking a step back and raising his hands in a surrendering way, hoping that he could convey that he was unarmed and therefor trustworthy.

The stranger’s eyes flashed over to his upturned palms, surging forward until there was a face breaking through the foliage, followed closely by a lithe, lean and absolutely nude body, which Charles would have loved to study in more detail but the man was grabbing his arm rather rudely and inspecting him instead.

If Shaw were there he would have shot him. If Emma were there she would have called for Shaw to shoot him. But Charles couldn’t be bothered, much more interested in why this strange man was finding him such a curiosity.

Alarm bells, that Charles normally didn’t have, began to go off as the man moved closer and closer. Charles had hesitantly raised a half gloved hand to push the other away when he grabbed Charles’ hand and stared at it with such open wonderment.

“What? It’s just a hand, my friend,” Charles said, confused. The stranger paid him no mind, slowly slipping off the glove and lining their hands up gingerly, eyes softening and growing more interested by the minute.

“Yes,” Charles began, “This is all very nice, but why,” and he broke off, falling into silent alarm when the other moved closer still, lying his head on Charles’ chest, much like Charles had done to his mother when he was a boy.

Not ceasing to be unpredictable the man then grabbed Charles’ head and forced it to his chest, obviously expecting that he’d get something out of the strange ritual.

“It’s uhm, a lovely heartbeat. It’s very nice,” he politely offered, stepping back and happily putting space between himself and that bare, tempting body.

The man screwed up his face in concentration before saying haltingly, “It’s very nice.”

“Yes, very- wait. You can talk? Oh, well then why didn’t you tell me? All this time I thought you were a native or something!” Charles gushed and would have continued gushing but the other had placed a hand firmly over his mouth.

“Ayrik,” he enunciated, pointing to himself, “Ayrik.”

“Erik,” Charles repeated, “Lovely.”

Erik grinned and pulled Charles into a hug, releasing him almost immediately as he pointed to himself again and said, “Erik.”

Pointing to Charles he said, “Luhfley.”

“Oh no, no,” Charles laughed, “I’m not lovely, your name is lovely, Erik. My name is Charles. Charles Xavier.”

They sat there for a few seconds, Charles with an extended hand, until he realized that Erik must not have understood a word he’d said.

“Charles,” he tried again, gesturing to himself, “Charles.”

“Sharles,” Erik said and Charles shrugged, smiling happily, because it was close enough for him.

“Mr. Xavier?” Shaw called out entering  back into Charles’ sight, “I thought I asked you to keep up.”

“Oh, Shaw, I’ve just met the most fascinating-,” he turned to drag Erik forward, but he had vanished, so he finished lamely, “tree.”

Shaw merely raised an eyebrow, turning back the way he’d came, calling over his shoulder, “Come along this time, Xavier.”

And after a quick glance into the now empty underbrush, Charles followed dutifully behind him, remaining unaware of the eyes watching him from the treetops. 


End file.
